The Princess & The Pauper
by gleeme33
Summary: In the kingdom of Lima, Princess Quinn longs for freedom while Rachel, a street-rat, is starving on the streets. When a fateful meeting brings them together, the two girls switch places to see how the other half lives. But these new ways of life are not what either girl is expecting, not to mention each of them possibly finding love.
1. On The Streets

**A new story because I'm trying everything to put off doing my mountain-load of homework over the winter break. Happy holidays, all! Remember to review. Thanks and enjoy.**

_The Princess & The Pauper_

_Chapter One_

Rachel was used to the empty, grumbling feeling in the pit of her stomach by now. Hunger was something she had grown very used to – however, that didn't make it any less unpleasant. The kingdom of Lima, in this day in age, was divided into two factions – the very poor, and the very rich. There was literally no middle class now in Lima, with the war raging on – either you were wealthy, with nice clothes and a warm place to live and plenty of food, or you were, like Rachel, a desolate street-rat, with no place to call your own and no nourishment to fill your hungry, emaciated body…

Like the rest of the people in her social class, Rachel roamed the snow-covered streets, presently trying to do anything to keep her mind off of her hunger – she hadn't eaten now in nearly a week. She was spending her time trying to focus the little energy she had on making footprints in the snow with her worn-out, too-small boots, and trying to catch a snowflake on her tongue. She only stopped and re-realized the reality of her starvation when she passed a baker pushing along the street a cart of his freshest baked breads, still warm from the oven. The aroma of the breads trailed on farther than the actual fresh baked rolls and baguettes did, forcing one of Rachel's hands to cover her mouth, and the other to be drawn to hold her empty, growling stomach. Her stomach ached so badly now, that she felt like she would throw up if there were anything _to _throw up. Then, like a savior sent to her, the stray dog which Rachel called 'Barbra' came to light out of the corner of her eye, walking in the alley on the other side of the street. Rachel's heart leapt, and her brain whirled with a plan.

"Barbra! Here, Barbra!" She called to the raggedy Berger Picard dog, followed by a whistle. Barbra ran over to the girl in rags as she got down on her knees to greet the sandy-colored dog – Barbra met the street-weary girl with licks of happiness and excitement. "Good girl," Rachel bayed, and turned the dog's face to show her the baker's cart; the dog barked in understanding. "You know what to do – go, girl, go get 'em!" At Rachel's command, Barbra ran with pink tongue hanging over to the traveling baker, sat at the man's feet, and barked twice.

"Oh – go on, dog, get out of here!" The baker yowled. "I don't need mutts beggin' for food at my feet! Get on, now!" Barbra only growled in response. "Go on!" The man continued, and so did the Berger Picard. "Get out of my way, you mangy mutt!" The dog kept growling fiercely, and lunged at the man, biting his leg. The baker screamed as her K-9 teeth dug through the material of his pants and into his leg; flying back in surprise, the baker flailed and knocked over his cart, sending the rolls, croissants, and baguettes soaring into the air and onto the open street. As the baker howled in frustration, Rachel grabbed as many pieces of bread as she could carry in her arms.

"C'mon, Barbra!" Rachel shouted, and with a happy yap, the dog grabbed a croissant in her mouth and followed the girl across the street and into the back alley. Eventually they made it to the abandoned alleyway that the two called home. What they did not devour of the bread they saved for later, knowing painfully well how scarce their food supply was, although they wanted to eat everything they had. "Good dog," Rachel praised, patting Barbra on the head as they shared a roll.

The church bells chimed in the distance, signaling not only the new hour, but this particular hour being when the boys were let out of school. Rachel brightened, seeing as now she and Barbra wouldn't have to be alone. Noah Puckerman – known to his schoolboy friends as 'Puck' – was in the same position as Rachel as far as social classes. He was lucky, Rachel thought, because he got to go to school and get an education. She of course, could do no such thing in the kingdom – only the princess received an education. Rachel tried not to dwell on this fact – she only made the most of what she had, and never gave up hope for a greater future.

"Rachel!" Noah called, walking over with a schoolmate of his – Finn Hudson, a wealthy-class aristocrat. "You found some food, _finally_! It's been nearly a _week_! Can I take some home to my mother and sister?"

"Fine by me," she answered. Noah, though poor, at least had a home; Rachel lived alone, on the streets. "They'll be very pleased." At the sight of Finn, Rachel rose to her feet, and curtsied as best she could. "Good day, sir."

"Good to see you, miss," Finn responded. Rachel loved when someone called her 'miss', as if she were not a street-rat like she was – this did not occur very often. She couldn't help but notice that both boys had muskets with them, and her eyes grew wide.

"Noah…you haven't been drafted…have you?"

"No," he answered, and his best friend was relieved. "But now they have us prepare in school – all of us, regardless of class. Anyone could be drafted at any time."

"I wish _I _could get drafted," Rachel said wistfully. "I wish _I _could fight for the kingdom…" Noah laughed, as if she were joking, but Finn nodded, as if he understood.

"I know what you're saying," Finn responded. "I wish the army would just draft me already! My father was general, I work for the princess – can't they just trust me in the front lines, already? This war has been going on for too long, and I've got something to fight for!"

"Yes," Rachel sighed. "We've _all _got something to fight for."


	2. In The Palace

**Some reviews would be great. Just to know that someone out there is reading. Happy holidays, everyone. Thanks and enjoy.**

_The Princess & The Pauper_

_Chapter Two_

The princess stood at her white, panoramic bedroom window that early Saturday morning. She traced the frame of the windowsill with her fair hand and tried to focus on the little flowery details etched into the wood, and not what was playing on in front of her, just outside her window. The princess sighed deeply – war had broken out in the streets again that night. "The Street-Men's War", they called it – a civil war, against the government; against her monarchy's rule. The schools in particular districts of the kingdom that were training the school boys now scared them – the monarchy never knew exactly who's influence was on them, what side they would rise up for. And so, they started the draft, but in the princess's eyes, this only made matters worse. Brothers shooting brothers. Innocent death all around them. The kingdom held two classes now – the rich and the poor – driven away from each other with a brutally sharp wedge, which the princess feared she could do nothing about. It was a constant fear – that she could not, and could never, stop the fighting. She decided she was done with the monarchy around her. If she had it her way, she would be out on the streets, with the people who were so quick to carry muskets and swords these days, poised at her guardsmen. All she wanted to do was mend these two broken sides of her kingdom together, like they once were so long ago – to be out, among the people, to listen to them, to understand them unlike anyone in her monarchy is willing to do…

"Princess?" A familiar voice called down from the stairway below. "Princess? Are you in?"

"In my chambers, sir. Are you alone?"

"Yes, Princess."

"Then you may enter if you wish," she instructed the boy, and opened the large door for him.

"Thank you," he said when he entered. "Good morning, your highness – "

"Please, Finn," she begged, interrupting him. "Call me by name. Please. I'm so sick of these silly titles that divide us!"

"Alright, then," Finn shrugged, unsure, but obeyed. "Good morning, Quinn. How are you this morning? Have your chambermaids already come to you with the latest briefing, or shall I give it to you now?"

"I fear I may be coming down with something," Quinn said, not only to Finn, but more in general. "I fear this war will only worsen before it gets better. I fear…I may be coming down with something. This whole situation – it makes me ill, I swear it does…" but she trailed off, and waved him on. "Continue, sir, if you please. Give me the news."

"Well," he started, sensitively and still just as unsure. "The war raged on in the streets last night – there had been another uprising. An assembly of boys, no older than I, against the régime –_ your_ régime – they amassed arms, muskets, pistols, but for the most part, they set out only with swords…your guardsmen were led by General Schuster – "

" – The best general we've had since your father," Quinn commented.

"Yes. I'd say so." Finn took a deep breath, and continued: "The boys barricaded themselves, waited for an attack – for the fight to come to them. They planned to overpower the forces. The general and your men came at them with canons – "

" – _Canons_? It's gotten so bad we've had to resort to _canons_, now!" Quinn's hand covered her mouth. She felt very ill, all of a sudden. Finally, after many beats of still silence, she asked: "how many casualties?"

"Only one boy survived. The others, their bodies are still being identified. There were twelve of them, all together. Eleven dead." Finn hung his head then, and studied the hardwood floor.

"_Eleven dead_…" the princess echoed, and closed her eyes – the thought was so hard for her to bear. "My God, _eleven_! They were just _boys_, no older than you and I! When will it _end_? My God…_when_? And why can't I end it?"

"It's not your place now, Quinn," he reminded her. "At least, not yet."

"Thank you, sir." Quinn sighed again. "You are dismissed."

"Thank you, princess," Finn added as he bowed to her, and left, closing the door behind him.

Again, Quinn was alone. In times like these, all she could think to do was to go back, in her head, to her childhood. When none of these heavy burdens were on her shoulders, and she could just _be_ – happy, _free_. How she longed for that again, right now. With a third sigh, Quinn thought about what it was like when she was young, growing up on castle grounds with Finn and the other children of the people who worked for them – most of them had left and found work elsewhere, but not Finn. She was glad that he was still around; he was some stability in her turbulent life. And still, as she glanced again out of her window and watched the fresh snow start to fall, the princess couldn't help but remember one wintery night in her childhood: she had been out in the rose garden, as she often was, and as she turned to come inside her eyes met those of another girl, surrounded by the shadows. When Quinn tried to talk to her, she ran away into the surrounding forest beyond the grounds, and Quinn never saw her again. Sometimes, she thought this was only a dream. Other times, she thought this was the most real thing she had ever experienced in her life.

As she grew older, Quinn had started to be pressured to marry, and therefore produce an heir to the throne – a third in line, behind herself. She'd considered, in her mind, what marrying Finn would be like – he was nice enough, stately, educated, a gentleman – but she wanted much more than that. She wanted more than the plastic life she'd been given. She wanted something _real_.


End file.
